


Four Days At Cassidy Keep

by ffrindyddraig



Series: Post First Class [3]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Dogs, F/M, Family Rivarly, Gay Darwin, Irish Slang and Accents, Stag Night, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Swearing, Trans Scott, Underage smoking and drinking, Wedding, alternative universe, pubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-23 20:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffrindyddraig/pseuds/ffrindyddraig
Summary: Sean Cassidy is getting married - as long as his jealous cousin, disapproving father of the bride, and the students and teachers of Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters don't mess it up.





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> This may take me forever to update, but I will finish it. This is my first time I haven't wrote the whole story out before posting and I do not have a schedule. Also, I made the town near Cassidy Keep up, so it had a town at least vaguely close to it, so yay, they have a pub!  
> EDIT : So I previously said this was on the North Coast, which it is not. It's still on the West Coast. I'm just really crap at geography and can't read a map. I've corrected this now.

Cassidy Keep was a castle, located on the West coast of the Republic of Ireland in County Mayo. It offers a look into a previous time where the monarchy ruled, and the Lord owned the local land and everyone on it. Sean Cassidy, the current owner of this Keep, would claim his family were just in their rule. Taxes were fair, their subjects always able to feed themselves, and while punishments for disobedience was harsh, the court system was just. Those who lived there might disagree.

Now, in the town, there was many rumours of the current inhabitant of Cassidy Keep. An American, they said. A secret agent. A mutant. They would barely see the man, Sean spending more time away from his home than in it. If he was in, he would rarely travel to the town, and never mix with the local. His cousin, Tom Cassidy, the owner the locals expected, was the exact opposite. With only his word on the affairs of the Keep, many took the man's word that Sean was a pompous, arrogant bastard.

Those living in the close knit community was surprised when a jet flew over their village on a fine spring day. Black and sleek, with a rumble that shook them to their shoes. A new type of military craft?, they asked each other. Was another Border Campaign happening? But it did not travel towards the border, but rather landed outside Cassidy Keep. The locals speculated, of course they did, but none got close to the truth. And who could blame them? For inside that jet sat ten mutants, all teachers or students at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters, a private institution set up in the Salam Center, New York.

"This is your Captain speaking. We have now arrived at Cassidy Keep in Ireland. Please set your clocks forward five hours - "

"Did you just say five hours?" Hank McCoy's - codename Beast due to his large feet and hands, and later paws, claws and a covering of dark blue fur- speech through the speakers was cut off by a passenger. Hank swivelled around on his chair, glaring at Alex - codename Havok due to, well, his ability to cause it.

"Yes." Hank said, sounding exactly like a parent who was at the end of his tether with their partially annoying child. "Forward five hours. Now if you - "

"Bozo," Alex interrupted again, using his own 'codename' for the man. "Can we skip this bull and just get off this plane? We've been on it for hours, and really, if I have to look at the back of the Prof's chrome dome for one more second I will start blowing shit up."

Even as he was speaking, Alex was undoing his seat belt. Then, before waiting for an answer, he was out of it, and leaving the room, moving towards the exit. The students - Lorna, Petra, Suzanna, Skids and Larry - got up too, following the man out, along with Darwin, the school's history teacher and counsellor. At least the later gave him an apologetic smile, muttering something about keeping them all out of trouble.

Hank turned to his co-pilot, Scott, in despair. "Why do I even bother?"

Scott pointed to the last man on the plane, a bald man in a wheelchair. "You still have the Professor."

"What's the point? He already know what I'm going to say!"

Charles chuckled. "Indeed, one of the disadvantages of being a telepath."

Hank undid his seat belt and hopped off the chair. He followed the Professor and Scott as they exited the room, and going down the lift. They did not speak as they exited the plane. Everything they could possibly want to say to each other had been covered in the long trip over the Atlantic. Charles could easily feel both boys' excitement - and fear - at going to see their team mate and wife.

As the lift got to the bottom, Hank pushed Charles to the front of the plane - the grass making it too hard for the man to push himself without tiring his arms out quickly - where Sean Cassidy was waiting to great them. When Hank first met Sean he had been a small scrawny boy with greasy hair and slightly confused look on his face. Now he was a tall, muscle bound man, his strawberry-blonde hair long and pulled back into a soft ponytail. His arm was wrapped around a beautiful woman. Her long red hair was dancing in the wind, and she had large green eyes. She had a slight budging stomach, clear even through the lose jumped she wore.

"Five points for whoever works out why they're getting married." Skids hissed, but was quickly shushed by the rest of the group.

Hank hung back, as Sean moved forward, shaking their hands. "Scotty! Charles!" He cried.

"It's still Scott." The boy muttered, but the only response was his brother, Alex, ruffling his hair, even more to his annoyance.

"Let me introduce ye to me fiancée : Maeve."

She leant forward, kissing Charles on the cheek. "Sean has told me much 'bout y'. Insisted y' pulled him up by his boot straps 'nd put him on the straight 'nd narrow, so I'll forgive y' f'r bein' English." She had a much stronger accent than Sean. Unlike the other man, she had lived in Ireland all her life.

"'Nd this, me dear, is Hank." Sean said, gesturing to the last member of the group.  

Hank, more than the others of the group, understood the prejudges of being a mutant. He lived the first twenty years of his life able to 'pass' as a human. His overly large feet could be crammed into too small shoes, and his frying pan hands, while causing teasing amongst his peers, did not give him away. (When he was going through school, mutants were not a wide known fact.) But at twenty-one years old, he injected himself with a serum he was sure would undo his mutation. Instead, it exaggerated it. His body grew to a more ape like shape, and he got a coat of blue fur. Now he was nearly house bound, terrified of what will happen if he walked down the street as himself. Since his change, he had not even gone back to his parents, terrified of what their reaction would be. Even other mutants took a second glance at him.

So when Maeve just leant forward and planted a kiss on his furry cheek, he could only gape in surprise at her. Upon seeing his reaction, she grinned, moving back into her fiancé's arms.

"I'm marrin' a man who could make me deaf if he screamed too hard. Blue 'nd furry is a relief, lad."

"I told ye : me Maeve's the best woman in the whole o' the world." Sean caught her hand in his, looking down at her. Only love was in their eyes as they looked at each other.

"Y' kiss arse." She teased. Sean leant down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"Aye." They kissed again. He looked away, blinking in surprise, like he'd forgotten the rest of them were there. "Should we show ye the house?"

"Please." Charles said, sweeping his hand in front of him in the universal sign of 'go on'.

Sean, Maeve, Darwin and Alex took the front. Hank felt like he should be walking with them. The young adults. He could hear them laughing and talking in front of him. Behind him walked the students, enjoying the taste of the countryside and fresh air, that New York failed to supply them. This left Charles, Hank and Lorna to walk in the middle.

Lorna, Hank thought, was stuck just like him. She was left behind by the back group, and, while only a year older than Petra, found herself too mature for them. She, too, was a non-passing mutant. She was born with green hair. Each day she shaved every inch of herself, wearing a brown wig and drawing on her eyebrows. At the Keep, she wouldn't have to hide.

While Hank thought they were similar, they did not talk. Lorna was obviously a popular kid growing up. She had that confidence and pose that said she wasn't bullied and teased, her childhood was not a  living hell. For a while, Hank was one of them too. A fluke. He was a king of the nerds, the smartest boy in the area, and then his P.E. teacher declared him to be the best football player he had even seen. Those months had been the best in Hank's life. He was suddenly somebody. Girls noticed him, boys wanted to be him. And as quickly as it started it ended. He was declared to have an unfair advantage. Quickly, rumours of steroid abuse being talked about. His old friends disowned him, the P.E. teacher saying he had no future in sports, and, head bowed low, he took his place back where he belonged.

After that, Hank learned the lesson of being alone. Terrified if anyone found out of his mutation he would be kicked out of the academic fields as well, he kept his head down and worked. Of course, Charles managed to mess up his life plan in one swoop, telling his work place about his hidden status. Now, he was privately funded. He had the opportunity to really study mutation in his lab at the school. This time he was going to make a cure and it was going to work.

They had landed close to the Keep. From the air it had looked quite small, but now Hank was standing in front of him he realised how big it was. He lived in a mansion, and this place made him take a step back. He thought places like this only existed in fairy tales! Dark grey stone, towers, and a draw bridge over a real moat! It was awe inspiring.

Sean though didn't miss a beat as he carried on over the bridge and through the large gate. They walked through a stone courtyard, and through the wooden doors. The inside of the castle was no less amazing. Wide corridors, with rugged floors, mirrors and art. Tapestries showing the Cassidy family crest hung down. Their host lead them through to, what he called, the main living room.

A big cosy fire place was roaring, sofas scattered around the room. Upon one flopped a lanky man with raven black hair. In his hand was a strange wooden walking stick, the top shaped like a club. (Later that night he would ask the man what it was, and he would be told, rather patronisingly, it was a shillelagh.) He looked up as they came in, a mask of disinterest. Impressive when one of them was big and blue, and another had bright green hair.

"This is me cousin : Thomas. He lives here." Sean explained. The man snorted.

"What the man means, y' Yankees, is I'm broke. A filthy, good f'r nothin' gambler, me father's exact words were. But, Seanie here, couldn't just let me starve. Likes t' shove it all in me face, he does. 'Nd to think, they thought Sean was goin' t' end up as nothin'!" He stood up and swooped out the room, twirling his stick in his hand. Clearly there was a tension between the cousins.

After he left, Sean rubbed the back of his neck. "Ach! Ye'll get used t' him. Coffee anyone?"

*

"Can't we just leave him?" Alex asked, again. They were waiting by Sean's car, ready to start the stag night. Darwin, who made the mistake of mentioning he couldn't get intoxicated, was the designated driver for the evening, ready to follow the plan Alex had set out for them. Sean had snuck a look at it, and he thought 'plan' was a bit of an optimistic term for what he had. He had written BOOZE, and then underlined it five times, followed by STRIPPERS. Really, it was more of a thought process, and probably one Alex went through a lot.

The man Alex wanted to leave behind was Thomas. After dinner (Mr. O'Donnell, the housekeeper, insisted, muttering about how irresponsible it was to plan a night out that started on an empty stomach, and questioning how American society hadn't collapsed yet), the man assured them he was "only goin' t' be a sec". Half an hour later, they were still waiting.

"He's me cousin." Sean explained, again. His best man just glared.

"He's ruining my plans!" Alex whined - yes whined. "If he's not here in five minutes, we're going, blood be damned!" He said that five minutes ago as well, however the tightness of his jaw suggested this time he meant it. Sean tugged at his ponytail, sighing.

"I'll go 'nd see what's taking so long." He left the stag party behind as he made his way back into the Keep. He grew up in these walls. His ma, God rest her soul, died during child birth, and his father took to the bottle, sending Sean to live here with his uncle. Tom and him had been friends growing up, always getting each other into trouble. But there had always been a rift growing between them, one that Sean had refused to see.

Tom's father placed too many expectations on the boy, ones he never placed on Sean. It got worse when Sean moved to America, a failed attempt to reconnect with his own father. Once Sean's uncle died, and the mess that happened with the Keep, any friendship Tom and he still had was dead. And add Maeve into the equation... he could see why the man hated him. But Sean didn't want it to end like that!

He got to the top of the stairs, pausing as he saw Lorna wandering down the corridors. She was beautiful, in a sad kind of the way. Green hair and sunken eyes. The exact opposite to his Maeve, whose beauty was energy and strength. She stopped when she saw him. Gave him a smile which didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hi." He said.

"Hello, Sean." A pause. "Aren't you gone yet?" She finally asked, more for something to say than wanting to know the answer.

"Tom is holding us up." He replied. "Alex is getting more than a little annoyed down there."

"Oh. Is Alex - " She looked down, a red blush covering her cheeks. It clashed with her hair, awfully. "It doesn't matter."

"Ye like him, lass?" Ridiculous question. Of course she liked him! They were head over heels for each other. But Alex couldn't just admit it. Once the man had been giving _him_ advice on women, now he was the blushing school girl, and Sean was getting married.

"Don't tell him." She blushed, trying to hide behind a thick green curtain of hair. Sean grinned, miming zipping his lips closed.

"I won't utter a word... but he likes ye too." Her head flew up, but Sean was already half way down the corridor. She called after him, but he quickly slipped into Tom's room. His grin faded : Tom was lying back on the bed, his feet booted up, leaving a scattering of mud on the covers. One hand was holding his shillelagh that he took everywhere with him, the other behind his head.

"What ye doing?" Sean cried. Lazily, Tom looked at him.

"Y're the smart one, can't y' work it out?"

Sean sighed. "We're waiting for you down stairs. Everyone's getting cagey. They want t' go!"

"Let them. Y'll have a better time without me."

Sean couldn't take anymore, especially because it was a load of nonsense. He took two long strides towards the bed before grabbing Tom's arm and pulling him out of the bed. Tom tried to pull himself away, but Sean's grip was iron. He arrested criminals for a living, not to mention he'd been fighting his cousin since he was a baby. He knew all his moves. _And_ Sean was in the best physical condition of his life, while Tom was really not. He pulled him down the stairs and out the front door, marching him to the car.

"Finally!" Alex exclaimed as Sean pushed the man into the car and slammed the back door on him. Sean then squeezed onto the front bench. Taking a deep breath in, he shut the door, locking them all in. To say it was cramped was an understatement, but everyone had a seat even if they couldn't move. Even Charles' wheelchair fitted, folded up in the boot.

Alex whooped, and Darwin switched on the engine.

"Let's rock and roll."

*

"Are they finally going?" Petra asked Suzanna, who was standing on her tiptoes peeking out one of the windows. The girls - Petra, Suzanna, Skids, and Lorna - had been put at the top of one of the large towers. The rooms from the circular room was amazing : one side the North Atlantic Ocean, the other a view of green rolling hills and fields. Unfortunately, the room also hadn't been updated, all grey stone and those thin slit windows that only let the thinnest sliver of light in.

"I think so..." Suzanna said as she watched the car weave away down the poorly laid roads. She half expected them to turn around and come back because they'd forgotten something.

Petra sat up, a grin on her face. "Let's have some fun."

*

The whole pub fell silent when they came in. Every face in the place turned to them, staring.

"You are currently masking my physique, Charles?" Hank asked. While to the stag group, Hank was his usual blue self, to those in the pub all they could see was Hank from before, glasses and all. Charles nodded.

"Indeed. It is working."

Tom stepped forward, a smug grin on his face. "I think I can answer tis : they're wonderin' what the high 'nd mighty Sean Cassidy o' the Keep is doin' down with the common folk. Don't worry, I'll get the first round."

He sauntered off to the bar. His easy chat with the man behind the counter said he was a regular. He laughed and joked with the other patrons sitting around. The group pushed their way through the dim room, finding a table at the back. Getting Xavier's wheelchair through the mess of tables and chairs was not easy.

After five minutes, Tom came up, holding six pints of Guinness on a small tray, one handed. He placed it on the middle of the table, the liquid spilling out of the glasses as he put it down. Everyone grabbed a glass.

"Cheers!" They all said, hitting their glasses together. More beer sloshed on the table before they all took a long swig.

"So," asked Alex, nearly a quarter of his glass already gone. Clearly he wasn't planning on pacing himself. "How did you meet your very _hot_ lady?"

"The more important question is how did a skinny blushing boy like yourself end up with a woman that fine?" Hank asked.

Sean grinned. "I used me charm!"

"I _have_ charm!" Hank exclaimed, annoyed.

Alex laughed. "Oh boy, do I have news for you..."

Hank was a grown man with two PHDs. He used all that maturity and intelligence and came up with the only logical response : he stuck his tongue out at the other man.

"Anyway, Sean isn't blue, and I bet he was working out before he met her. She wouldn't look twice at him if he was American him."

Sean crossed his arms over his chest. "Surely I wasn't _that_ unattractive before!"

The uncomfortable looks everyone was shooting each other answered his question. Alex though, the nice person he was, tried to make it better. "Well, you weren't Hank ugly."

The blue man growled at him, while Alex just grinned. If this was them now, Sean did not want to see them drunk. They'll rip each other's heads off!

"How I met Maeve?" Sean said, quickly, trying to defuse the tension at the table. He suddenly had a deep respect for Charles keeping this under control all the time. "I met her how all young people meet : in a pub. I just got back from work, been away for weeks, 'nd got in, tired as a mug, 'nd Tom says he's going down t' Dublin, 'nd I, lack o' sleep making me delirious, decides t' go with him. I slept all the way there, 'nd I'm still bloody tired. Course, the moment I saw her, I was more awake than I ever been. Do ye know when ye meet someone 'nd ye just know they're the one?"

Those around the table where not as loveless as they may seem at first glance. Charles had felt that way with Moira, same with Darwin and Miguel. Even Alex and Lorna, though neither had the guts to admit it yet. And then there was Tom. He knew exactly what it was like to be swept off your feet by a beautiful woman. But he also knew what it felt like for that same woman to slip through your fingers and fall in love with someone else. Under the table his hand tightened on his shillelagh. Softly, it began to glow.

Charles lifted his pint glass up. "To love?" He suggested. Alex snorted.

"Tonight love doesn't exist. How about... to naked girls?"

Everyone lifted their glasses up. "To naked girls."

Under the table, Tom's stick glowed brighter.

*

Skids was sneaky. She used to steal just to get by. Even her foot steps were silent, aided by the fact her feet didn't actually touch the ground. So how the hell Mrs. Malone, the grey hair, ancient cook, sensed her, she did not know. She had turned around, vodka bottle in hand, the woman had been standing there, eyebrow raised.

"Y' think I'm new t' tis, lass?" She asked, as Skids could only stare at her in surprise. "I've been stoppin' young Sean 'nd Tom bef'r y' were a glint in y'r father's eye. Now, if y' hand the bottle t' me, I promise not t' mention tis t' Mr. O'Donnell."

Skids, remembering herself, stood up straight. She crossed her arms over her chest, bottle sticking out at a right angle. "And why the fuck - "

"Manners, lass. Y' Americans need t' wash y'r mouth out with soap."

"Why the _fuck_ should I be scared of Mr. O'Donnell? He's just an old man."

Mrs. Malone laughed. She had a strong laugh, deep and hearty. "Did Sean not tell y'? Mr. O'Donnell doesn't approve o' underage drinkin' or smokin', or, God in heaven, _drug use_. If he catches y', he'll - " she shook her head " - I hope y' have strong skin lass."

Skids bit back her own laugh. Was she really trying to scare her? Skids was born into a life of hell, and it somehow only managed to go downhill from there. "Didn't ya hear? Everything just skids off me, old woman."

"Aye? Does that include small, dark rooms? Under the stairs or perhaps in the dungeon?"

Skids just stood up straighter, laughing, hoping the woman wouldn't detect the slight hint of nervousness. She never got on in the dark. Hence why she told the Morlocks to go screw themselves. She should of stayed with them. Then she wouldn't of met Rusty, or got caught by Trask, and they wouldn't of killed him and her heart would be able to beat without pain.

" _Please_." She snorted, slipping past. Mrs. Malone tried to grab her. Of course, it failed. She tried again, and failed again. She kept on Skids heels as the girl walked away. As she reached the door, Skids turned around, shoving her middle finger in the cook's face. She hoped that was a thing in Ireland.

"When will flatscans learn to respect their betters?" She sighed. With one last smirk, Skids turned around and glided down the corridor. She went to the living room, the one Sean took them too this afternoon. Before she met Sean she thought anyone with a house this big would be a grade A asshole. As she walked to the door, she held the bottle up proudly. Five faces turned to look at her, a mix of grins and nerves on their faces.

"Let's party!" She cried.

*

"Are y' sure the lad's safe t' drive?" Tom asked. He was refusing to get in the damn car. Sean groaned, smashing his head into the back of the seat. Hank coughed, stepping out the car. It looked ridiculous. A man that big, a car that small.

"Darwin is a mutant. He 'adapts to survive'. A normal man like you, Thomas, or even me, the ethanol in the alcohol effects the central nervous system. It binds to glutamate, making the brain slower while activating the gamma ammobutyric receptors, making your brain even slower. In our body, the enzymes in our liver metabolises this. Darwin's body, realising the damage this is going to cause him, produces more of this enzyme in less time so he can break it down faster. But, in language you'll understand : the lad can hold his bloody booze! Now get in the car bef'r I rip y'r bloody head off!"

Sean turned around, accidently hitting Alex in the face with his ponytail. "Keep yer voice down. Ye'll get beaten up with that God awful imitation!"   

Hank grinned, before shoving Tom into the car and getting him after him. Tom looked uncomfortable as he was crushed between the two other men. "I think I pull it off rather well actually."

*

Mrs. Malone was furious. Maeve had never seen the cook so angry before. She had only gone to get a pickled onion sandwich - her baby's choice, not hers - to find Mrs. Malone complaining to Mr. O'Donnell about the unruly mutant teenagers, currently taking over the home. They both stopped talking as she stepped in, turning to her with a glare before realising who she was.

"Do y' want me t' talk t' them?" Maeve asked. She heard Sean's horror stories about Mr. O'Donnell.

"Are y' sure, Ms. Rourke? They seem very hostile, they do." Mrs. Malone said. Maeve was not used to anyone calling her by her surname, it made her feel like a teacher. However, she could not get the woman to change her ways. She shook her head.

"Sean seems t' disagree. Anyway, it might be better if it comes from someone their age." She said the last bit with a cheeky grin, but from the frown the cook gave her, she clearly didn't appreciate the joke.

"If they give y' any trouble, Ms. Rourke, come t' me. I'll sort them out." Mr. O'Donnell said.

"I will." She assured him, ready to turn out.

"Ach, Ms. Rourke, what did y' come in f'r? Draggin' y' into our problems like that!" Mrs. Malone cried suddenly.

"Just a sandwich."

"Pickled onion?" Mrs. Malone didn't wait for her to answer, quickly cutting the bread and making it. In no time at all, Maeve was pushed out the door, a plate piled high with them. She thanked the cook as she left.

It was easy to find the teenagers. She just had to follow the sound of shouting and giggling. The door was closed, and while Maeve managed to get it open with her hands full, she was not prepared for what was on the other side.

The five kids were in a circle, all obviously intoxicated. Scott and Skids were both smoking, a thin mist hung in the room. She waved her hand in front of her face, trying to get some clean air. What made her stare, though, was that Larry was wearing a miniskirt over his trousers. He was spinning around in it, showing it off to the group as they whooped with laughter.

"What?" She finally managed to get out. Four faces turned to her (Lorna was too busy staring intensely at her hand). Petra grinned at her, showing all her teeth.

"May-may-mayvvee!" Petra slurred. "Come. Sit. _Play_!"

Maeve raised an eyebrow. She was twenty. Watching these teenagers made her feel old. "What y' playin'?"

"Truth or Dare!"

Well, that explained the miniskirt. Larry had flopped back down, not even blushing. She would be if she'd been in his place. As he went down, Suzanna stood up, swaying slightly. Maeve frowned, she didn't think thirteen year olds should be drinking. She quickly rushed forward, ready to catch her if she fell.

"Can _I_ touch your baby?" she slurred, trying to take a step forward. Maeve quickly stopped her, guiding the girls hand to her stomach. Suzanna felt it, pressing down on it slightly. A frown appeared on her face. "It's not kicking!"

She smiled. "How 'bout I tell y' next time he's playin' football?"

The girl nods, falling back onto the carpeted floor. Maeve winced at the thump she made as she hit it.

"You gonna play  or not, red?" Skids asked, taking another deep drag.

"Name's Maeve. 'Nd OK, with one condition."

Skids eyes narrowed. "And that is?"

Maeve smiled, the girl was no doubt thinking the worse. Whatever that was. Probably removing the alcohol. "I can open a damn window 'nd get rid o' tis blanket o' death."

Slowly, Skids nodded. "Deal."

Quickly, Maeve went to the window. Cool air rushed in, and she took a large gulp of clean air. She took a seat close to the window, Suzanna moving so she was beside the older woman. To the other side of her was Larry, the silent boy in a miniskirt.

With an evil grin, Skids sent the bottle spinning.

*

"What the hell did ye say t' them?" Sean yelled at Alex as they ran down the road. He lost sight of the others in the group two turns back. Of course, the people chasing him wasn't looking for them. Hell, they weren't looking for _him_ either. He could fly himself to a roof and let them pounce on Alex. The kid - and Alex may be older than him, but he was still a damn child - could handle himself. But Sean did not want dead bodies on his stag night.

"Nothing!" Alex shouted back as he spun around another corner, this time leading them into an alleyway.

"Nothing? They want yer head on a stick!"

Alex swore, crashing into a wall. "Dead end! Who the fuck builds an alley way with a dead end?"

Sean rolled his eyes, not stopping his run. Luckily he had been behind Alex. He couldn't fly without his suit on. He could, however, jump. Especially if the wall wasn't that high. Not losing any momentum, he grabbed Alex under the armpits, and screamed downwards. He didn't know the science behind it (something about particles and compression and over bollocks Hank knew and he didn't, because he did drugs instead of secondary school), only it gave Alex and him the power to get over the wall. _And_ slowed them down enough that when they landed on the other side in the mess of limbs it didn't hurt _that_ badly. Sean got up, trying to listen to the men the other side of the wall.

"I could o' swore I saw them whankers come down here, I could!"

"Bollox. We lost them!"

"Nae. I swear - "

"Leave it off."

He waited in till he couldn't hear them anymore, before turning to Alex, raising his finger at him angrily. "I'm going t' ask ye again, 'nd this time I want ye t' answer with the truth. What the fuck did ye say?"

"Nothing!" He said again. Sean stared him down. "OK, OK! Jeeze! His girl, I was flirting with her. The man took an exception to it. I was going to settle it peacefully, put all those human-mutant relations lessons the Prof gave us, but he's having none of it. Next thing I know, he's chasing me down the street!"

Sean sighed. Then he punched the other man in the shoulder, harder than he meant to, but damn the guy was annoying. Of course, now his hand hurt.

"OW! What was that for?" Alex glared at him, too drunk to really feel it properly. Just wait in till tomorrow.

"Flirting with someone else's girlfriend!"

"Sorry that some of us don't have a fine looking girl waiting for us at home!"

Sean snorted. Maybe he should punch Alex again... "Ye got Lorna!"

"Lorna?" He blinked. Sean threw up his hand.

"Don't act all naive with me, boyo. She's head over heels for ye, ye're head over heels for her. I don't understand yer problem!"

"She's - "

"No. Don't ye do that. Sell yeself short. Sure, she maybe mad falling for ye. Anger management issues, complete loser, 'nd ye barely had a relationship with a girl longer than a night. But ye two have something!"

Alex rolled his eyes. "You don't know a thing. Now Mr. I-Have-All-The-Answers, how we going to get out this back garden?"

Sean wasn't that fussed about Alex denying it. They both knew he was right. Alex will just have to accept it in his own time, even if it's damn painful for the rest of them to watch. Sean laced his fingers together, and bent down. "Leg up?"

*

"Dare."

Skids narrowed her eyes, staring at her victim with a grin on her face. "Are you sure, Scotty?"

He nodded. "Do your worst."

"OK... OK..." she mused. "Kiss the most attractive person in the room."

Suzanna giggled. "It's obviously going to be Petra!"

Skids frowned. "Why not me?" Suzanna just giggled in response, making the other girl frown deepen.

Scott turned as red as his glasses, but he set his jaw. No way was he going to back out. "Easy."

He stood up, looking around the circle slowly. Then he moved across it, every eye looking at him. He bent down in front of Maeve, and kissed the red head right on the lips. Everyone stared in shock. Against his mouth, Maeve's lips were frozen. When he pulled away, Skids laughed.

"You're into oldies! Why am I not surprised?" Scott just blushed harder, head down, quickly taking his place back in the circle. He wasn't making eye contact with anyone, easy to do with his eyes covered with his glasses.

"I'm not old!" Maeve protested, and was ignored. She was flattered that Scott would chose her, even if he was young.

Petra grinned. "Wait till we tell Sean about this..."

*

Charles was enjoying himself.

It was not the first strip club he had been to. No, that was when he was recruiting Angel. But that had been work, and he'd been with Eric who had been so scathing about the whole thing. In the end, Charles did not have the time to appreciate the girls. Before that, he used his telepathic power to pick up girls in pubs. As a younger man, he thought there was no point if he wasn't going to get a good ending. Now he realised there was a certain type of pleasure in just looking.

Skin on show, pale against the revealing underwear, just hinting at what was held underneath. It had been a while. His mind had been focused on building a school, and while there were girls, they were too young and under his care, though he would be lying if he said he hadn't looked. They wore short skirts and were rather attractive. Really, who could blame him?

And Moira, well he really thought they could of been something. But it didn't work out. It never would have. She'd been in a new life, away from her husband, and she wasn't ready yet to really commit to another man. She still loved the bastard, even if she knew he was scum. Meeting her again, less than a month ago, brought it all back. He knew he did what he had to do to keep them safe, but it still hurt.

A girl walked past on stage, high heels making her tower above him as he craned his neck up. She was walking across to another group of men, the loud type, cheering boisterously. He wished she wouldn't. Her panties were only held on by the smallest knot, slung so low over her hips. Boobs, heavy and erect, nipples pointing through.

Beast poked him.

"What?" Charles mumbled, eyes not leaving her swaying hips as she moved away.

"People, um, are staring." Charles looked at him in confusion. Then someone began to yell.

"He's blue, he is! A mutant!" Suddenly the whole club was looking at them. Eyes full of fear and disgust. Even the stripper he'd been checking out before. This was not how he wanted to catch her attention. A muscle bound man in all black began to come towards them. With a sigh, Charles closed his eyes, wiping the last ten seconds from everyone's head, and recovering the Beast in his glamour.

"Charles," Hank hissed as the club went back to its sleazy ways. The bouncer froze half way across the room, before shaking his head and moving back. "You have to be more careful!"

Charles held up a hand. "It only slipped for a second, Hank."

"Easy for you to say - it's not your head coming off!"

*

"Uh... truth." Lorna decided on. Petra jumped in before everyone else could even start to form a thought. Clearly she had been holding it in all night.

"What colour if your pubic hair?"

Maeve's mouth popped open. One of the disadvantages of being the old, sober one. "Petra, you can't ask that!"

"Like you haven't thought about it!" She shot back with.

Lorna shrugged her shoulders. "I don't mind. It's green."

"I knew it!" grinned Scott. Suzanna leant over and punched him.

"You are such a perv." She muttered.

" _I_ didn't ask the question!"

"NEXT!" Lorna cried.

*

"Ye not enjoying yeself?" Sean asked, leaning across the dirty table. Everyone except Darwin was staring wide eyed at the girls. Sean was trying his best not to. All that skin, pale and smooth. His dick wanted him to trail his hands all over their skin, taste them, see them cry out. His brain screamed that he was getting married in two days! He loved Maeve! Just, damn, these girls were hot and in his face.

"Not my scene. You?" Darwin replied.

"I see myself as grown past this stage." He just wished he believed it.

Alex pulled out a five euro bill at a passing woman. She came in close to him, and he let her sway in front of him for a second, before pointing at Sean. He waved his hand in front of his neck, telling Alex to piss off. He just grinned, the smug bastard. The girl trailed her finger across Alex's face as she moved towards him. He picked her because she looked like Maeve! Not as beautiful, of course, eyes not the right shade of green, but _damn_.

Darwin rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. "Are you sure?"

*

Suzanna was asleep, curled up into Maeve's side. Absentmindedly, she stroked the girl's hair, eyes fixed on the teenagers. The alcohol in their system was fading, and everyone was just lying about. Skids seemed almost asleep too, mouth hanging open, head flopped over the chairs back and looking at the ceiling.

Scott and Larry seemed to be communicating through charades, the former using exaggerated body movements, and the latter using exaggerated body movements and lights, that seemed to be getting brighter and darker in a dizzying manner. As they 'spoke', Scott was puffing away on another death stick.

Which left Petra, sitting next to her on the sofa, staring at her with grey eyes. "So how long you know Sean?"

"'Bout a year."

Petra raised an eyebrow. "Huh. And you're what? Five months pregnant? Six?"

"Aye." said Maeve, not elaborating. She knew where this was going.

"So, you getting married 'cos your in love or 'cos you got knocked up?"

For a second, Maeve didn't know how to respond. She was expecting it, but to be asked that bluntly! She decided laughing was a good option. "Y' sound just like me Father."

"Doesn't answer my question..." She looked smug.

"I love him!"

"Right..." Petra gave her one last smile, before moving off towards Scott and Larry. Maeve stared after her. She was sure she had never been that rude! Suzanna shifted on her lap, and she looked down at the girl. Two dark eyes were looking up at her.

"Don't mind, Petra," Suzanna said, sleepily, after a large yawn. "She doesn't believe in love."

*

Sean leant back on the brick wall, closing his eyes. The rest of the group were still inside, drinking and laughing, but for him it was beginning to become too much. He'd walked out the moment that girl's 'lap dance' had ended. Alex had thought the whole thing was hilarious, making Sean squirm like that. He'd probably moved onto Darwin now.

"How's she cuttin'?" He managed to hold back a sigh at his cousin's voice. He wanted Tom and his relation to get back on track, the man was family, but the man had refused to crack a bloody smile that wasn't condensing or smug for the whole evening. Now, with more alcohol than blood flowing through his veins, the man was just becoming downright unpleasant.

"Grand." Sean said, hoping if he kept his answers short the man would get the hint and leave. He didn't. Instead he staggered up, placing himself dead in front of Sean. He was an inch smaller than the other man, but he pulled himself up in an attempt to loom over him. Sean sighed. "What's ye problem, Tom?"

The man snorted. "Me problem? What'sh _y'r_ problem? Y' have a stunnin' wife at home 'nd y'r droolin' over a cheap _whore_!" He spat as he said the last word, spraying Sean with spit. He wiped his hand over his face in disgust.

"We both know it's not like that."

"Really? What I know is y'll be an awful husband. Goin' off f'r weeks at a time - "

"It's called having a job! Ye might understand that if ye ever bothered t' get one!" Sean stood up straight, pushing Tom backwards. Giving himself some damn breathing room.

"Y' don't deserve her! Everyone thinks y'r so great! Well I know the real y'! The sad, little stoner, failin' at school 'nd goin' nowhere. But y' get the Keep 'nd suddenly everyone forgets that!"

Sean laughed. "Ye lost the Keep in a poker game! If I wasn't there, some drunk in Claggan Island would have the keys right now! So don't give me that bollox 'bout ye being some kind o' victim. Ye're a loser. And ye're wondering why Maeve picked me!"

Then Sean got the club end of Tom Cassidy's shillelagh in the face.


	2. Day Two

"Well a stag do isn't a stag do if no one ends up in A&E."

Sean groaned, his hand going to the bandage wrapped tightly around the head. "Ye've said that five times!"

Alex shrugged. "There isn't a lot of positives of this situation! I can't even say you should see the other guy, because he's lying in bed right now, grinning his face off about how he took you down without getting a scratch on him!"

Sean leant against the door. Inside was his beautiful fiancée. She didn't know yet about the face. By the time they got back from Ballina everyone was already asleep. They must of waited hours in that damn waiting room. Turns out stitching someone's face up was at the bottom of the Doctor's list of injures to fix.

"Should o' let Hank stitch it up. Save me some bob as well."

Alex snorted. "I wouldn't let that crazy man near me with a five foot pole! Go in for a couple of stitches, come back as blue as bozo!"

He laughed as his own joke. Sean pushed him, and the man stumbled backwards. "Go! I've got t' go confront the missus."

"Not the missus yet." Alex reminded him, before stumbling down the corridor. Sean tuned to the door, resting his forehead against it for a moment. Then he opened it.

Light spilled into the room from the hall way. It caught on Maeve's pale skin and bright red hair. She was beautiful sleeping. He wanted to swoop her up in his arms and kiss her  senseless, but he knew if he woke her up she would not be happy.

He shut the door behind him and stumbled into bed. He stripped out his clothes, lying down next to her naked. His body spooned her, his arms wrapping around her bulge. Wrapping around their baby. She moaned, rolling over to face him, eyes still closed.

"Hey darling. How ye both doing?"

She mumbled something unintelligible, and with a grin Sean kissed her forehead.

"Aye, I feel the same. I'll tell ye all 'bout it tomorrow." He pressed his face into her hair, breathing in her smell. His face stung like hell, but he still was asleep before his eyes were fully closed.

*

Scott woke up early.

He always did, even with his five plus hours jet lag, though the clock ticking at the wall was closer to eight than his usual six o'clock start. His roommate, Larry, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. In fact, the boy rarely got out of bed at all. At the mansion, he missed more meals and class than he went to. Scott couldn't understand how someone could sleep that much and still claim to be tired.

He quickly stripped out his pyjamas and changed into his running clothes. His mutant physiology - and youth - meant he didn't suffer from hangovers. Anyway, he'd only got tipsy the night before. Enough to allow himself to loosen up, and, as the others say, act like a normal mutant being. He left his bedroom, going to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water, before going out the front door. He stretched out. His body screamed for a nicotine hit. His cigarette packet was yelling at him to open it up and smoke one.

Scott gritted his teeth and began to run. He had rules. He couldn't smoke in till he finished he run, which today consisted of going to the local town and back. Scott Summers was not going to be controlled by anyone or any _thing_.

The countryside was beautiful. He'd never been to a place so open before. He realised as he jogged through the landscape the mansion was just a large private park. Here there were fields, spiky grass and thistles that ripped at his bare calves, and fresh clean air that swept across it all. It tasted like salt, reminding him of the night he spent on the beach with his brother.

The town's church was ringing eight forty five as he got into town. It didn't take as long as he thought it would. It was a small place, a couple of houses, a local shop and a pub, all connected with cobblestone streets. It would only take minutes to get from one side of the town to the other.

He took a rest against a wall across from the shop, taking a long swig out of his water bottle. He watched the people of the town move about their day. Unlike in a big city, they greeted them as he passed, even though he was a stranger. Of course, he could see the looks they shot him of distrust and wariness. As he watched them he lit up a smoke. Half way through he remembered he wasn't meant to have one in till he was back at the keep. Cursing he put out the remaining half on the wall, and slipped it back in the packet for later. He was about to start jogging back when a shout caught his attention.

One voice, loud and angry. It was easy to find the source, a man standing outside the shop. What he saw made his blood boil. The man was old, grey haired, and kicking a dog. A skinny, pitiful creature, its head down and tail between its legs. The man's foot hit its ribcage, and it staggered away with a yelp. The asshole had a grin on his face as he did it.

Scott was a rational man. He liked to think things through calmly. He used all the tactical lessons the Professor taught him, and gritted his teeth and waited in till the man had disappeared in the shop. As much as Scott wanted to punch the man bloody, sometimes it was better not to cause a scene unless you were sure you would come out on top. Teenager beating old man always ended with the locals ganging up and chasing the teenager out of town, even if the old man was the devil himself.

The moment the door of the shop shut, Scott hurried forward. The dog was sitting miserably, bony bottom against cold stone, head hung low, just waiting for its master to come back out. It wasn't even tied up! Scott wondered why he didn't just run away and never come back. Then Scott thought about himself. He tried to pull the dog away. It whined, digging its feet in.

"C'mon," Scott muttered. "You're too big for me to carry. Don't you want to leave?"

It just looked at him with those big eyes. Sighing, Scott pushed it's bony backend and it jumped up.

"Good boy." He cooed, rubbing its back appreciatively. It cowered under his touch. As he moved away, the dog looked at from the door of the shop to him and back again, before making up its mind. Miserably it began to limp beside him. Scott looked closer at the two legs it was limping on. It alternated which foot to put pressure on as it walked. A large cut circled around both, like someone had tied wire around the ankles and tied the dog from something with it/

Scott wanted to turn around and blast that mother fucker to pieces. Instead he began to jog. The dog increased its pace, powerful legs easily going faster than Scott. It seemed to forget about the pain and just ran. It looked free. After seconds it was just a dot on the horizon. Scott didn't expect it to come back, but it did a u-turn and speed towards him. It did this a couple of times, before it settled down to walking again, a miserable limp behind him. Scott realised the dog imprinted on him. Just like he did with Alex. No. He needed to stop comparing himself to a freaking dog!

By the time they got back to the keep the dog looked exhausted. It was barely able to walk anymore, each step a little whimper coming out its mouth. A long tongue lolled out its mouth. Scott snuck into the back door of the kitchen.

"Stay." He warned to dog. It just trotted in behind him. Its panting mouth looked suspiciously like it a grin.

Scott began to hunt around the cupboards, before finding a mixing bowl and filling it full of water. He placed it in front of the dog who lapped it up gracefully. Scott took his own drink from his bottle, watching the beast spill water on the floor. With a sigh, he turned back to the cupboards, hunting around them again.

"What in hell do y' think y' doin'?"

Scott jumped, spinning around and trying his best not to look guilty. Even the Beast had problems sneaking up on him in training sessions, how had Mrs. Malone managed to do it? Scott suspected the grownups were going easy on him. He'll have to change that when he gets back to the school, and train more. He couldn't help but gulp at the women towering above him. Mrs. Malone was scowling, her chubby arms crossed over her chest. All she needed was to be holding a rolling pin like a club and Scott would be running for the hills.

"Well, spit it out boyo."

Scott had two choices : fight or flight. Both never seemed to end well for him. At least if you fight you get the pain over quicker. Not the reason the Professor was trying to drill in him. He said if you fought you could change the world, but if you ran you never could. Scott kept both thoughts in mind as he stood up straighter and tried to take a deep breath.

"I - I - " Then the dog pushed its way around him and limped up to the woman. It pushed its face into her crotch, seemingly unaware of the danger. Her meaty hand went down automatically and began stroking it, a look of surprise on her face. After a moment she pulled herself together.

"Where the devil did y' get tis dog from? Did y' steal the beast?"

Scott shuffled guilty, biting his bottom lip. Mrs. Malone kept pulling her fingers through the dog's shaggy coat. He shrugged his shoulders, and the cook raised an eyebrow.

"Don't be givin' me any o' that!"

"I - uh - _liberated_ it." Her eyebrow raised further, nearly hitting her ash grey hairline.

"'Nd that Yankee f'r stealin' her is it?"

Suddenly Scott was fed up of this. Being beat down by adults who didn't know a damn thing. Who were sure they were in the right because they had a couple more years on him. He stood up straight. For the first time in the whole conversation his eyes made contact with hers through his deep red glasses.

"No. Liberated. It was being abused and I saved it from its owner."

"That so?"

Scott wanted to scream. Didn't the woman have eyes? Who could look at this dog and think it lived a happy life? "Look how skinny it is!"

She sighed, like he was a child who didn't know anything. "These are running dogs. They're meant t' be jus' skin 'nd bones."

Not _that_ skinny surely. Scott could see every bone in its body. And he could see the cuts on its legs, hear the whine it made every time it shifted its weight. Mrs. Malone reminded him of school teachers, of class mates, they didn't see it because they didn't want to. If they spoke up, it made it their problem. They would have to admit the truth to themselves : humans - and mutants - were not good people. Not really. They all had a darkness inside them.

"Listen to me." He hissed. His hands clenched into fists. He tried to remind himself to be calm. His darkness, the one that seemed to lie in wait under the surface all the time, that wanted to hit and scream and hurt the world as much as it hurt him. The part of him that enjoyed the fights, that told him to kick someone when they were down. He had to keep it under control. It was what separated him from ~~Jack~~ other people. "He - its owner - was hitting it, and 'cos I'm a normal fucking human being and not some heartless asshole, I saved it! So how about you stop accusing me and take a proper look at the dog and see I'm right!"

The cook looked him up and down, and Scott tried to stay still under her gaze. His chest was still heaving from his outburst, and he wanted to keep yelling. It was worse than standing in the home while the prospective parents checked them out. Scott always knew they would never pick a fuck up like him. Maybe that's why it was worse this time : because he had hope. Then her eyes left him, moving onto the dog she was still stroking. After a moment, she clapped her hands together, causing both the boy and the dog to jump.

"Let's find some meat."

"What?" Scott asked, not quite daring to believe it.

"She's all skin 'nd bones tis one is. We should find her something t' eat."

Scott couldn't help but grin as the woman spun on her heel and began to riffle though the cupboards.

*

"I believe," Hank moaned as he buried his head further into his pillow, "my demise is near."

Darwin laughed somewhere over his shoulder. It cut through his head like knives. "You're just hung-over."

Hank shook his head, regretting it almost immediately. "I have a metabolism that should handle this amount of liquor, therefore the only logical explanation is I'm dying."

"You said that last night as well. Oh, that reminds me you owe Alex $10."

Hank groaned. He couldn't remember last night. Well, actually, he could remember bits of it. Like the start. And girls in underwear. And... yeah, that was about it. He had no way of knowing whether he actually owed Alex money or if Darwin was pulling a prank on him. "I'm never drinking again."

"What about the wedding?" Darwin sounded much too smug about this whole thing. Hank would hit him if he wasn't so sure movement was make him puke.

"Fuck off."

*

Maeve leant forward, pressing her lips against her fiancé's sweaty forehead. His arm snuck around her waist, pulling her back into the bed and closer to him. Sean twisted his head around in a position which could not of been comfortable and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Where ye going babe?" He asked, eyes still closed. She wrinkled up her nose as his morning breath of stale booze and greasy chips and pies hit her face.

"Me daddy's."

Sean sighed, pulling a face. "Wouldn't ye rather stay in bed with me than be with that - "

Maeve put a finger to his lips, cutting him off mid sentence. "Careful, he'll be y' father-in-law soon, he will."

"Only downside o' marring ye." She giggled.

"Such a flirt." She kissed him again, slowly. She never thought she would be OK with kissing someone who tasted vaguely like puke, but love was strange like that. Too soon she pulled away. "Remember he's comin' f'r diner t'night."

Sean smiled. One of his devil may care smiles that drew her to him in the first place. "I'll be on me best behaviour."

"Aye. Y' will be if y' want a good honeymoon." She warned.

*

The beach was two miles away. The walk was across towering cliffs, the sea breeze filling the wandering students and teacher's mouths with salt. Slowly, under their feet, the rough, spiky grass turned into soft sand.

"The sea!" Suzanna squealed the moment it came into view, her face in a large grin, before she began to run full speed at it. She pulled off her shoes, socks and trousers without losing any momentum, throwing them hastily on the floor behind her.

"It's freezing!" She screamed as she plunged in. Soon only her neck and head was visible, bobbing up and down in the waves. She began to swim lengths.

Sighing, Scott picked up her shredded clothes off the beach as he walked along with the group at a more sensible speed. Once in the middle of the beach he flopped down, piling the clothes beside him. Petra was now stripping off too. Scott tried to stop his eyes lingering on her legs for too long. Soft, tanned, with stretch marks and fighting scars. As she pulled off her top it caught on her vest below, and Scott could see her torso, the whole thing covered in thick surgery scars. They didn't make her less beautiful. One of the biggest advantages of his glasses was nobody could see where he was looking. Still she turned around and gave him a smile which said she _knew_. He hid his face, cheeks blushing.

"Come in!" She cried, and while she said it to the group, Scott couldn't help but think it was said directly and solely to him. She ran into the water, squealing as the icy waves hit her.

Lorna and Alex too had shred their clothing. While Petra was beautiful, Lorna was a woman. Properly filled out, and that green hair made her exciting and exotic. Alex pulled her along the beach away from the group. He gave Scott a wink when he thought nobody else was looking.

Skids rolled her eyes, flopping down in the sand next to Scott. She wasn't quite touching the floor. It must be nice not having to worry about getting sand in your hair. "Ready to be Uncle to some green hair devils?"

Scott ignored her. His brother sleeping with anyone was definitely not something he wanted to think about. Larry and Darwin, the two final members of their beach party, ignored her too.

Darwin was still removing his clothes, revealing a pair of colourful underwear (even with Scott's pure red vision he could tell the colours on it was blinding) and Scott tried his hardest not to feel jealous. No girl would look at him twice when he was surrounded by men like his brother and Darwin. Sure, Alex was called for, and Darwin was a queer, but they still had all the right parts.

"Are you joining Larry?" Darwin asked, showing teeth as white as his eyes.

The boy shrugged his shoulders, biting his lip. While the weather was cool today, the sun was shining brightly down. In this light Larry's holograms wouldn't be much use.

Skids raised an eyebrow. "You have been to the sea before right?"

Miserably Larry shook his head. Skids whooped with laughter, ignoring the glares the boys were all sending her. Darwin reached forward and touched Larry's shoulder.

"It'll be fine. Scott?"

Scott shook his head. He wanted to, of course he did. The sea was nice, even if he couldn't swim. But he couldn't take any of his clothes off, they'll all see how wrong he was. And even if he did go in fully clothed, it would only get wet and cling to his skin and show off all his curves in all the wrong places. He hated his body. Another reason he couldn't be normal. Another reason he couldn't let his guard down, not even for a second. Darwin gave him a sympathetic smile, before him and the other two walked off into the sea, leaving Scott on his own.

He'd only been sitting there for a minute, drawing patterns with his finger in the cold sand, when Skids and Petra came out the water and moved towards him. They could be related : blonde hair, blue-grey eyes and a grin that would strike fear into any man. Petra's nipples were erect with the cold, and they pointed through her t-shirt.

They reached him, and he hadn't managed to get a word out before they grabbed him. Petra took his arms and Skids took his legs. He remembered his school teaching the devil came in disguise. He tried to fight them off, but Skids force field meant any attack hurt him rather than her, and their grip was iron, strengthened by the self-defence and fitness lessons Charles made them do for hours. He probably wouldn't approve of them using them against their own people.

They carried him down the beach and into the water. Scott knew what they were about to do a second before they threw him, plunging him into the icy cold. He gasped, the sea water rushing into his mouth, his nose, his ears. One hand went to his glasses, making sure they stayed on, the other splashed madly. Luckily, they threw him in where it was shallow, and his feet found the bottom after seconds, and he stood up. A frown was on his face, and he glared at them with all the malice he owned. Sadly, he thought a lot of it got lost with his glasses in the way. They just laughed. Even Darwin, the traitor.

"You _assholes_." He spat out. His hair hung down in snakes, dripping water. His clothes stuck to him uncomfortably. They just laughed harder. And Scott really didn't have a choice. He had to put them in their place. He reached his arm into the water and splashed. It rose up, crashing over Skids who screamed.

"The boy scout can have some fun." Petra grinned, before she too got water thrown at her. It dissolved into a fight, water splashing everywhere, and not a single person came out dry. It only stopped when everyone was too tired to carry on, muscles sore and cramping from laughing too much. They stumbled out the water, falling onto the beach. The spring sun did little to keep them warm.

Scott reached into his pocket, pulling out his packet of soaking cigarettes. "You assholes!" He repeated, but this time he said it with a grin.

*

Lorna's heart was beating too fast. Like it was about to have a heart attack fast. And nothing she could do would make it stop. And it didn't help that he was smiling like that. He was just sitting there in the sand next to her, having no idea that he was killing her.

Don't get her wrong, she'd had crushes on boys before, and Alex was completely her type. Strong, blonde, and funny. But unlike those jocks she'd had flings with at school, Alex was also a hero. He had _saved_ her life. And if that didn't turn a girl weak at the knees, what would?

And Alex - who was apparently, according to Sean at least, as in love with her as she was with him - seemed unable to make the first move. Really, the whole thing was a bad romance novel her mom - her a _unt_ , she meant her aunt - would read.

"You OK?" Alex asked, pushing back a lock of green hair away. He had that smile on his face and she wanted to do nothing more than kiss those damn lips. He was so close.

"Yeah. Never better." Instead of leaning forward like every cell in her body was screaming at her to do, she leant into his hand. He kept it there, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"Good. I'm good too. Better than good. Almost - " His rambling cut off, and he jerked back like her skin was burning. Or maybe it was his skin that was on fire, she could of sworn she felt it heating up. He looked out at the sea. Over the sound of the surf, she could hear the others laughing in the water. Even after last night and the fun she had, she still felt like the piece that didn't fit. She wanted to with all her heart. Why did she have to be the jigsaw puzzle piece that belonged to a different set?

"Good weather." Alex said, changing the conversation topic. "Sean said it always rained here." And of course he had to go and change the conversation to the two things most awkward things when all you wanted to do was snog someone's face off : the weather and their best friend. Disappointed, she leant back.

"Well, it's not today."

He nodded and silence fell. It shouldn't be this damn awkward.

"So..." Alex said slowly, fishing for something to say. "You picked a code name yet?"

Lorna fiddled with her split ends. "Magneta? Magnetrix?"

Alex pulled a face. She threw her hands up in despair. "That bad?"

"No, no." Alex quickly reassured, shaking his head, before sighing and nodding. "Yes. Awful. They remind me off a certain mutant supremacist who shot JFK. It's not exactly the impression superheroes want to give out, y'know."

" _Allegedly_ shot JFK," she said, before putting her head in her hands. "I sound like a terrorist apologist! Anyway, it's not my fault we share the same power."

"And you're sure you are not related?" Alex joked. She slapped his arm in annoyance. She could always see them thinking it, the others. She wished she could say she knew before, but after her aunt admitted about her mom nothing had been quite as cut and dry as she thought. She didn't know who her dad was, it could be a crazy mutant. Of course, in 1946 the man was still in Europe, was he not?

"NO!" she said, trying to sound as confident as she could. "So, anyway, how did you pick your name?"

Alex smiled. "Easy. I got someone else to do it."

Lorna narrowed her eyes. A small grin began to form on her lips. "I've got it."

"You do?"

She nodded, leaning in closer, the smile on her face becoming almost evil. "You can pick it. And it better be good."

As she leant back, she could hear him swallow.

*

Charles did not like Patrick Rourke.

He made a point not to read minds unless it was absolutely necessary, and living in a house with Scott and Petra had fine tuned his resolve. Really, just getting those kids to answer "how are you?" truthfully involved enough mental gymnastics to turn even the sanest man mad.

However, Charles could never fully block out impressions. The emotions coming from a man's mind. Especially when they were as strong and as violent as Maeve's father's were. The washed over him, each sentence he said Charles could feel the second and third meanings crash through him, none of them good.

Maybe on another day Patrick would be more civil. He was already angry before him came. His dog had been stolen this morning. "She looks like a racin' dog, y' see," the man explained to Charles when he first sat down, "but she'll be a fat lot o' use t' them. She's a gimp, can't run f'r her life. They'll o' shot her by now. F'r the best - I should o' done it years ago, but I'm soft on her. Me late wife's y' see." That wasn't exactly a good start as Charles hated the word gimp.

Maeve had left him with him and the Beast to bond. After a minute with the man, Charles suspected she actually just wanted to have a break from him. He seemed to have a negative opinion on everyone and everything, especially his soon to be son-in-law.

Patrick did not know about their mutant status, and Charles found himself having to mask Hank once again. He was not used to doing it for this long, and he was worried how he would do during the wedding. He'd already had to alter the image he was giving off to make it more like Hank's new shape.

They sat in one of the Keep's living rooms. Like the rest of the house, the floors and walls were cold, grey stone, and the ceilings were high. A fire roared in a futile attempt to warm the place up. Patrick sat across from him, a pipe in his hand, which he puffed on occasionally. The sight of him sitting in that armchair reminded Charles of his step-dad. Another reason Patrick was not making a good impression on him.

"So," the man asked, his permanent frown etched onto his face."Y're a professor?"

Charles nodded. It was easier than to go into the details.

"Well then man, what do y' teach?"

"English. Philosophy." _Human-mutant relations_. "Whatever I need to."

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Jack o' all trades are y' now?"

"My school is very small, with only a few select special students."

"Special? Aye, that makes sense." He looked pointedly at Charles wheelchair, moving on from him before he saw the glare shot his way. Hank shifted uncomfortable as the attention was turned on him.

"'Nd y', big fella, y're a teacher too?"

Hank nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Science?"

"Science?" Patrick scoffed. "I would o' thought someone as big as y' would teach a real subject, like sports. Wasted skills there." Hank looked down at his hands. Charles had to agree with the man on one point : Hank's skills were wasted. The man was uncomfortable in his own skin and his mutation. All that potential he refused to tap into. If he could just embrace it - properly embrace it - he would be a force to be reckoned with.

"How do y' lads know Sean then? Y' seem far t' respectable f'r a low life like him."

"He works for Interpol!" Hank exclaimed. Patrick just gave him a smile like a shark, showing his yellow teeth. The first time the man didn't have a scowl on his face and it sent chills down Charles' spine.

"So he says. I doubt they'll let anyone like him in."

"Like him?" Charles asked, stiffly. Was Patrick aware of Sean's mutation? He did a quick top layer scan of the man' mind, and while there was a lot of anger and rage brewing towards Sean, none of it seemed to be about mutants. Of course, there was still anti-mutant sentiment, but only slightly higher than that of a normal humans due his belief they were ungodly. Of course, a normal human's anti-mutant sentiment was too high for Charles to be comfortable with as well.

"A murderer."

Charles raised an eyebrow, and leant forward in his chair. "What?"

He'd never heard any of this. Never even sensed it in Sean's mind. Patrick snorted at his surprise.

"Y' deaf as well as crippled? Sean is a killer."

"The garda who charged me had no proof." Charles' head whipped around. He'd been so absorbed in his own thoughts he had completely missed Sean coming into the room. He had not even been aware of a new mind coming into focus, like he normally did. "Hence, I was released."

"Then if y' were as innocent as y' claim, why did y' run off t' America the first moment y' could?"

Sean leant into the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. "T' reconnect with me father."

"He had good sense t' stay away from y'."

Sean's jaw locked, and his hands closed into fists. A wave of anger rolled from him. Patrick, Charles realised as the thoughts crashed into him, was only unharmed because he was Maeve's father.

"Me father is the last man ye would say has 'good sense'."

"He knew y' were no good, jus' like I do."

"I'm not a murderer." _I'm a hero_. Charles heard the unspoken end of that sentence ring in his head. He saw Cuba, criminals hand cuffed, a garda lying dead on the ground, and Sean being mistaken for the one who pulled the trigger. A mistake. A naive kid sticking his nose where it didn't belong and trying to help. He got off, and he knew how lucky he had been. He'd been scared, and he ran away, under the false cover to find his long lost father. A secret he didn't want people to know.

Charles nodded, taking it all in, before turning back to Patrick. He was puffing away on his pipe, a glare still on his face. He really hated Sean. It was more than just this alleged killing of an officer. It was a belief that the man in front of him was not good enough for his daughter, that he was taking her away and turning her against him. A need to hold onto her. To keep her under his control.

"Me daughter should leave y'."

"She loves me."

Patrick snorted. "She is a child, a _fool_. Y' pulled her in with y'r lying words 'nd trapped her. If it was up t' me - "

"But," Sean said, standing up straight. He was not the scrawny eighteen year old Charles once knew, but rather a fully grown solider. It sent chills down Charles' spine. Was this his fault? He _had_ to. There is not a choice in war, and this one was about genetics. Every child born with the x-gene had to fight, or they will be killed. He did not make this war, he just had to sure they as a species would survive it. "It's not."

*

Mrs. Malone had five lurchers at home. Her husband took them lamping, bringing back rabbits for her to skin and cook for dinner the next day. One night, he even brought back a deer the dogs had brought down. They were working dogs, and she knew the rules. But she was soft. Her husband always scowled her for feeding them and giving them too much love. But with those big eyes, how could she resist?

Limpy, the bitch Scott brought back, was not a working dog. She couldn't run, she couldn't earn her keep. She should, by Mrs. Malone's husband's rules, take the beast around the back and shot her in the head. But she was soft.

Eamon, the house keeper and her close friend, was easy to win over. Under that tough exterior he was as soft as she was. He took one look at Limpy lying on the floor, feet in the air, and declared he always thought the Cassidy Keep should have a guard dog. Limpy was going to be the most pampered dog in the whole of Ireland, and after the life she'd led (Mrs. Malone's blood boiled at the sight of the injuries on the dog, if she ever met the man who did this, she'll make him into a woman) she deserved some pampering.

Even Miss Rourke was in love. She'd come down for one of her pickled onion sandwiches a quarter of an hour ago and hadn't stopped stroking the dog since. The creature had actually wagged her tailed upon seeing Maeve. If Mrs. Malone didn't know better she would say the two already knew each other.

"Me mammy had a dog that looked jus' like her." Maeve cooed as she tickled the dogs stomach. Limpy's tongue lolled out happily, and Mrs. Malone could of sworn she was grinning.

"Is that so?"

"Aye. Y' say her name is Limpy? Y' rescued her?"

"Scott did." She bit her lip. "Those kids are nae as bad as I thought they were."

Maeve grinned. "I knew they'll win y' around, I did." She stood up. Limpy whined pitifully, knocking her head into Maeve's hand, demanding more. "I'm sorry, lovely, but I've got t' go save some men fr'm me daddy."

*

Suzanna was lost. This castle was so _big_. Before here, she thought the mansion was large. Now she knew better. The longer she stumbled down the cold stone corridors, sure she had already passed the tapestries that hung on the walls already, the larger the lump in her throat got, the stinging behind her eyes. She cried a lot. She wasn't ashamed of that fact, even if afterwards her eyes hurt and she had an bad headache and snot was all over her face. The Professor said after what she had been thought, she should. It would be worse if she didn't. And she trusted the Professor. But she wasn't going to cry now.

As she stumbled from room to room, she couldn't help but be reminded of when she was a small child. It was a sunny day, it had always been sunny in California. She must of been five, only really being able to speak Taishanese due to the fact she wasn't going to school yet and talked mostly with her parents. The only English she really spoke was with the neighbours. That day she lost her parents on the streets, and in her fear and panic lost all of her second language.

Her parents managed to find her again, her maimi pulled her into a hug, wiping her tears away. Sometimes when she woke up from a nightmare, all she wanted was her maimi to come running in and do that again. She was give anything to feel her arms around her. Now she had Petra, but it wasn't the same. There was no happy endings anymore.

"Y' know the plan, boyo?"

The voice was unfamiliar, coming around the corner. She froze. She knew she shouldn't eardrop. She didn't stop. She shuffled forward, trying her hardest to stay silent. The tears that threatened to spill only moments before was replaced by burning curiosity. She peeked around the corner, making sure to stay out their eye line. Sean's cousin - she couldn't recall his name - was leaning against the wall, his walking stick hanging from his fingers lazily. She didn't recognise the other older man.

"Aye." Sean's cousin said with a snort. "I'm not incompetent."

The old man clearly thought differently. "I jus' don't want anything t' go wrong. T' think o' me daughter marrin' that... that..."

"Arsehole?" Sean cousin supplied. Patrick nodded venomously.

"That _arsehole_ turns me blood cold."

"Me cousin doesn't deserve a girl as fine as Maeve."

Maeve's father's eyes narrowed to slits. "Maeve deserves better than any o' y'."

Sean's cousin just smiled. "We'll see."

The old man walked off. After a minute of smug smiling so did the other man. Suzanna, whose mind was still spinning, trying to process what they had just said, collapsed back into the wall.

Maeve's father wanted to stop the wedding? And Sean's cousin wanted to help? Well, not if she had any say in it they won't. Sean helped to save her life, it was the least she could so in return. She needed to bring the others in, form a plan. That was, if she could find her way back to a place she knew.

*

"Shouldn't we tell Sean?" Scott asked. He was the only one standing up in the room, giving the impression of being the leader in this rag tag group. Based solely on experience, Petra thought if someone was going to be in charge it would be him. However, he did lack the social skills needed to truly lead. If Petra was going to follow someone into battle she wanted them to be strong and steadfast, not staring at his shoes and blushing every time a cute girl looked at him.

Skids rolled her eyes. "Like they'll believe us."

Scott shook his head. "They're not like that here." Petra wondered if he actually believed that. 'Naive' was not a word she would associate with Scott. Skids leant back on her chair.

" _Everyone's_ like that."

"Do you think you may have trust issues?" Suzanna asked. Naive was a word Petra would associate with Suzanna. She was just a kid who'd been through too much. Four years ago that was her. But unlike her, she didn't turn tough and harsh like her but still seemed to of held onto her innocence.

"Might?" Scott muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. Petra smiled - she liked it when the boy showed some sass. Skids glared at him, which Scott ignored, going back to the topic on hand. "Anyone else have any objections?"

"We can't tell him." Suzanna said. Her voice said they couldn't argue it.

"Why?"

"Because it will hurt his feelings."

Scott stared at the girl like she'd grown another head. "What?" He stuttered out.

"You know what feelings are right?" Petra asked, only half mocking. Scott was sometimes a bit clueless on things like that. He pulled a face at her.

"Yes. I know what feelings are. I just don't see how they are important. Someone could get injured and you're worried about _feelings_."

"Whoa, nobody said anything about someone being injured." Suzanna cried. Petra glared at Scott, before turning to the girl, a soft smile on her face.

"Nobody is going to get hurt. Isn't that right Scott?"

"We don't know that."

She could punch the kid, she really could. Instead she just settled for a glare. "She's right. If we could sort this out without anyone knowing it will be better."

Scott sighed. Three - one. They won. Good.

"So, what's the plan?" Skids asked. She looked worried. She had been close to Sean. Every since he left to come back to Ireland she had been a lot more violent in her break downs. Anyone else and she would be watching the shit storm go down with a bowl of popcorn.

The room felt silent as they thought it over. She could bury them both in the ground, but that wouldn't really work in the long term, not to mention it wouldn't exactly be stealthy.

Scott stood up straight. "Get Larry." He ordered, still not looking one hundred percent happy about this. "I've got a plan."

*

This was not what Sean had been expecting.

Mrs. Malone had promised him the plumpest goose she could find and cook it to perfection. A good impression for his soon to be father-in-law, and a show that he was in touch with the Irish traditions and wasn't too much of a yank. Of course, to truly honour the tradition, the goose was meant to be cooked around Patrick's, but the man lived in Dublin and had never once invited Sean into his home. But instead of the steaming brown bird, he got a rabbit stew placed in front of him, unidentifiable vegetables floating in it.

Of course it tasted good. Mrs. Malone wasn't able to cook anything bad. But it wasn't what Sean was going for at all. Patrick sneering down as his bowl was definitely not helping matters.

"Even peasants eat better than this." He said, throwing his spoon down. The liquid surged up, and spilt onto the tablecloth. Maeve frowned at her father.

"Daddy, why don't y' give it a try. It tastes gr- "

"Y' shouldn't be eatin' tis muck." He snarled, cutting her off mid word. "Look at who y're marrin'! Don't y' want more than tis!"

"Daddy, I love - "

He held up his hand. "Silence. Y' a fool. If y' marry tis man, y'll spend the rest o' y'r life regrettin' it!"

"Hey! That's a bit harsh." Alex said, unable to stay out of this argument any longer. Sean made the right choice on his best man. Patrick snorted at him.

"I will not be attacked by his Yank friends, nor his crippled English ones either!" He glared around the table, before standing up. "Me 'nd me daughter will be leavin' now." 

"Me _fiancée_ ," Sean corrected, "Is not going anywhere."

Patrick grabbed Maeve's bicep, pulling her up. Everyone at the table (bar the Professor and Tom) stood up too. Patrick must of known he was outnumbered, but he still seemed undaunted by them all. Maybe if he knew everyone around this table was a mutant he'll feel differently...

"She's mine in till she is wed." He began pulling Maeve towards the door. Sean hurried forward, placing himself between the man and his destination. His blood was boiling, his heart pumping. Maeve's was no ones. Not even a wedding could change that. To cage his fiancée would be to cage a tiger. She would be lost tamed.

"I suggest ye unhand her." Sean warned. He couldn't scream, not with Maeve in the way. But he knew how to throw a punch. He could hit the man so hard he'll stay down. Maeve shook her head, but Sean ignored her. Didn't she understand what a bastard her father was?

Suddenly, Patrick's face went slack. His hand dropped from his daughter's arm. Maeve pulled herself away, rubbing at it. It was red. Sean would kill the man if it bruised.

"Yes. I will unhand her. I will wait in the next room for you to finish your tea." Patrick's voice was robotic, and he walked stiffly out like a soldier. Every face around the table turned to Charles, who was trying his best to look innocent. The smug grin that broke through onto his face did give him away though.

Sean wanted to say something - nothing that had just happened there had been right - but he was also thankful that it hadn't come to blows. The bastard was nearly family.

"Ye alright?" He asked Maeve, guiding her back into her seat. She leant into his side, looking exhausted.

"Jus' grand." She said, giving him a small smile, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her level. She reached forward and planted a small kiss on Sean's lips. "He really doesn't like y'." She sighed, softly.

"I thought dinner would win him over." He said. Then he pulled back. "MRS. MALONE!" He yelled. Well, what a normal man would call yelling. Sean's vocal cords meant that was practically an indoor voice. A second later the cook came through the door, looking extremely flustered.

"Yes, Mr. Cassidy?" She asked, though she clearly already knew what this was about.

"What happened t' the goose?"

The woman looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. Her eyes stayed locked on the ground. "Limpy ate it, Mr Cassidy."

Sean raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like Mrs. Malone to speak in riddles. "Limpy?"

At that moment a blur crashed through the dining room, speeding around the table in a manic dash, before stopping at Maeve's side with a slight yelp. A dog. Black and grey, legs akimbo and ears pointing straight up. Sean couldn't believe his eyes. It stared up at Maeve with large eyes, and unable to resist, she fed it a bit of rabbit from her stew.

"That's Limpy, Mr. Cassidy."

Sean sat down, putting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. "One o' ye'rs?"

"Nae, one o' y'rs."

"The keep doesn't have dogs." Sean sighed. Maeve pulled his hands away from his face, giving him an unobstructed view of her beauty.

"It does now."

*

Maeve picked up her dress from the hanger. It was still covered in that soft tissue paper that it came with from the shop so Sean wouldn't see (though she knew her fiancé well enough to know he would of peeked, tissue paper or not). She'd gone and picked it two weeks ago with her maid of honour. Apparently, she'll knock his socks off. Not to mention it covered her pregnancy bump well.

She turned, imaging herself walking into the church in this dress less than twenty four hours from now - and found herself inches away from Sean.

He was the most handsome man she'd ever met. Even with the bruised eye (and she knew boys will be boys but did Tom have to club him a day before the wedding). She thought it was the smile. Slightly lopsided and always genuine.

"Do ye have t' go?" He asked, one hand going to her stomach, the other to her hip.

"Y' know the rules."

"We've broken enough o' them." She felt the baby move inside her. She was never going to get used to that. A living being, alive in her stomach. She thought it was agreeing with Sean. She wanted to stay, of course she did.

"We have the rest o' our nights t'gether."

Sean sighed. "I don't want ye t' spend the night with him. He seems..."

Maeve sighs. "I know. But he's me daddy, 'nd tis is hard f'r him. Ever since me mammy died it's jus' been him 'nd me 'nd now I'm leavin'. He jus' wants the best f'r me. He jus' doesn't know that's y' yet."

"I won't be able t' convince ye otherwise?"

"Y' know y' won't."

He leant forward, kissing her slowly and softly. She closed her eyes, embracing the moment. Too soon it stopped. Sean got on his knees in front of her, like he did two months ago, and pulled up her jumper, placing another kiss on her stomach. "I'll be missin' y' both."

"Be seein' y' boyo."

*

The black sheet was lose, slightly moving around Scott in the light sea breeze. He pressed himself against the cold stone outer wall of the Keep. His eyes were tightly screwed shut to give no hint of his presence. Next to him stood Skids. He was waiting for her signal.

"He's going to piss himself." She laughed gleefully in Scott's ear.

"Shut up." He hissed back. This girl did not get stealthy.

"Jeeze Scotty, you won't die if you had a bit of fun."

"This is a mission, you can't just - "

" _Sshhh_. He's coming."

Scott bit his tongue. Really? That was exactly what he'd been trying to say! He stuck his middle finger at the girl, and she still had the audacity to laugh.

"Rabbit!" Mr. Rourke was still complaining about. "Servin' us rabbit the night bef'r the weddin'! Y' can do better than him."

"Daddy, I don't think I could. If y' gave him a chance!" Scott wondered how she could continuously fight. Wouldn't it just be better to stop being around him? Maybe it would make more sense to him if he actually had a proper family.

"A chance y' say? I've given him nothin' but chances 'nd he does nothin' but prove me right."

"The way I see it - "

Maeve cut off mid sentence, and Skids pushed Scott towards the two. She was meant to tell him, not push him into the deep end! For a moment he stood frozen, worry clawing at his brain. Pre-mission jitters, his brother called them. _Take a deep breath and go kick ass_.

Scott followed his brother advice, taking a step forward. Then he opened his eyes. His glasses glowed red. They always did, but in daylight it was hard to see it, unless he got mad. He found if he slipped his glasses further down his nose - though not enough for his force beams to start firing - the glow became a brighter, blood red. Suzanna claimed it was the most creepiest thing she'd ever seen.

Mr. Rourke was standing in front of him, hand in front of his eyes to shield them from the bright light Larry had sent off. Scott could only just make out the figure, and the frozen Maeve next to him. The light suddenly cut off, and both man and boy were temporary blinded.

"Maeve?" Mr. Rourke cried, pulling at his frozen daughter's arm. "Darlin'?"

"She is safe." Scott lowered his voice, trying to infuse it full of power. He wasn't sure he was pulling it off. Mr. Rourke's head whipped around. Upon seeing the two floating red eyes he squealed - yes, squealed like a little girl - and took a step backwards, crashing into the car.

"What - how - _who_ a-are y'?" he stuttered out..

Scott took another step forward. Mr. Rourke pressed himself closer into the car. Scott couldn't help but grin, even though he was still one hundred percent against this. OK, maybe ninety.

"I am the Keeper of Cassidy Keep."

"The K-keeper?"

He was really buying this. "That is correct. I guard and protect all those who live in it and YOU, Mr. Rourke, I am not happy with you at all."

"M-me?" He squeaked. "I've done n-nothin'!"

"LIES!" His voice just cracked. Please say Rourke was too scared to notice his voice just cracked. "You plot and scheme against the master of the Keep. Did you think I wouldn't know your plans? The poison you speak in my halls?"

Mr. Rourke shook his head. "I - I - "

Scott wondered if the man had pissed himself yet. He thrust his arms forward, both still covered under the black sheet. He pointed his palms up to the sky, and Larry, from his hiding spot under the car, made two blinding balls of light appear above them.

"You will not threaten this wedding. You will not hurt my soon to be mistress. And you will not come back to this Keep with schemes of damage and heartbreak again. Am I clear?"

The lights on his palms grew brighter. Scott took another step forward, knowing Larry was blocking the man from seeing him properly and giving the game away. A pitiful whimper came from the man.

"I said : AM I CLEAR?"

The ground shook. Nice one, Petra.

"A-aye. Aye. Yes. Oh God, I promise."

Larry shot the two lights forward, towards the man. The moment they touched the man's face and began to disintegrate, Suzanna froze him too.

They pulled themselves out from under the vehicle, Larry and Petra helping Suzanna so she wouldn't lose concentration and realise their victim too early. Together they moved back next to Skids.

"That was outta sight." She hissed. Scott shushed her before nodding at Suzanna. The girls face was pale, and she seemed to be slightly shaking. Her eyes were closed. Petra touched her arm softly and leant in.

"You can let go of them now." With a thankful gasp, Suzanna realised the two Rourkes.

" - all you do is - " Maeve carried on, before realising her father was ashen faced, leaning against the car. "Are y' alright daddy?"

"What?" He asked, eyes wild. They shot to the shadows, trying to find Scott - or the Keep of Cassidy Keep. "Aye. Grand. I jus' - I got t' - "

The man broke off, and began to run back into the keep. After a second of just staring after him confused, Maeve threw her wedding dress in the back seat and followed him back in. The kids looked at each other. Suzanna broke first, laughing wildly. Before long, all five where howling, leaning against the wall, wiping tears from their eyes and holding their aching stomach muscles.

"Scott," Petra said between laughs, slapping him on the back, "you are a genius."

*

"Patrick." Sean sighed. Could this man not just leave him alone? Or did he feel like he needed to make this evening even worse for him? "I thought ye were - "

"I give y' me permission." Sean blinked. The other man was pale, breathing heavily.

"Pardon?"

"T' marry me daughter. I give y' me permission." Sean looked at Maeve, trying to find an explanation. She could only shrug, as confused as him. Was it drugs, or maybe... he turned to the Professor.

 _This is not my doing_. The man assured him in his head. Sean didn't know if that was the truth, but he wanted to believe him. Maybe Patrick just saw the light.

"Thank you?" Sean finally managed to get out. It sounded more like a question than he attended. Patrick leant forward, and Sean was sure the older man was going to punch him. Instead he patted him on the face, before stumbling towards the door. Then he spun back around, a scowl on his face and a shaking finger pointing a Tom.

"'Nd y'! It's off. Y're nothin' more than a lowlife gambler." He cried, eyes wild. Then he exited the room, leaving the remaining occupants to stare at each other in confusion. Maeve snapped out of it first.

"This is good, right?"

Sean nodded, slowly. "Better late than never."

"Aye. I think I should go after him."

"That would be wise."

She came forward and kissed him, before leaving the room. Sean looked around at the blank faces greeting him.

"Does anyone want t' tell me what the fuck just happened?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
